Battle Scars
by TheWolfWithinMe
Summary: During the year that never was, the Master abuses the Tenth Doctor until he's nothing more than a shell of his former self. Eleven saves him. (Angst and fluff, with more angst.)


Summary: During the year that never was, the Master abuses the Tenth Doctor until he's nothing more than a shell of his former self. Eleven comes and saves him.

Sometimes the person you need the most, is yourself.

Angst heavy with some fluff/comfort.

Ten/Eleven with mentions of the Master.

I do not own a thing. :)

* * *

Time can be rewritten.

It wasn't an excuse, per say, but fact. And right now, he _needed_ to rewrite a certain part of his history. It broke every single rule he learned back at the Academy, but young Theta was never one to follow guidelines and adhere to stupid laws, and neither was he, now in his Eleventh carnation.

He had dropped Amy and Rory off at a spa resort, promising to return in exactly two weeks, and told them to call him if any problems arose. Then he was off, dashing into the TARDIS and setting the coordinates for his past. He could feel the timelines shifting, the Universe bending in order to accommodate his plans. If the other Time Lords were alive and in power, they would have stopped him before he could even disappear into the vortex. But they were not and so he was free to manipulate reality.

The TARDIS beeped, jolted and gave its usual grating sound as it touched down again, a comforting hum filling the room once the machine rolled to idle. Breathing in deeply, the Doctor eyed the wooden doors cautiously before straightening his bow tie.

"Wish me luck, sexy." He murmured to the console, giving it a fond pat.

The Universe hadn't yet imploded — or exploded — and the Time Lord took that as a reassuring sign.

Still, as he trotted through the door and outside, nerves hit him. He was on the Valiant, during the time the Master owned and decimated Earth. The psychopath Time Lord probably knew he was here already, yet he wasn't the one the Doctor had come for.

Gripping his screwdriver in one hand, he made his way down a deserted corridor, pausing to glance out one of the windows. Stars and blackness met his gaze, and if he looked downwards he could see fire. Hell itself. He remembered this like it was yesterday; a ball of nausea already building in the pit of his stomach. Determined though, he pushed on, feet slowly echoing down the hallway.

Finally he reached his destination; a nondescript door, which led to an equally bland room. One bed was shoved carelessly against the wall, and on it lay a curled up lump.

His hearts thudded in his chest. The figure was naked, and chained by his feet to the metal bedpost. Even from this distance, the Doctor could see how skinny the other was, the moonlight shining in from the windows illuminating his skin and displaying the bones protruding through it. Anger replaced the Time Lord's initial shock as the Oncoming Storm within him raised its head and uttered a soft growl.

No one touches _his_ Theta and gets away with it.

Moving forwards, his eyes scan over the exposed flesh, catching patches of darker skin. Bruises lay across the male's lower back like paint to a canvas; some big, some barely noticeable.

But he _did_ notice. Every single one of them.

The sound of his footsteps caused the other to shift in his sleep, eyes blinking open as panic settled onto his features, followed by confusion when he realised that it wasn't the Master.

"Who are you?" His voice was weak, scratchy, as though he hadn't eaten or drunk anything in a long while, and it made the Doctor's hearts ache.

"I'm — I'm... It doesn't matter right now, I'm here to save you." He finished lamely. They didn't have time for introductions.

"But... if the Master finds you... He'll hurt you."

Big, scared, brown eyes were staring up at him. Rassilon, his past self was adorable. And the fact that the Master, his old _friend_ would damage him beyond recognition, made the anger surface again.

"He can try."

Flicking the screwdriver open, he broke through the chains as though they were nothing more than paper. Finally the other was free.

"C'mere..." He coaxed gently, sliding off his jacket and draping it around his younger self's shoulders. Rather than look relieved, however, Ten only blanched even more.

"No, no, no.~ What have you done? He's going to punish me now..." His voice trailed off as choked sobs took its place. Those adorable brown eyes now glinting with tears.

He could see the other trembling beneath the jacket, but felt powerless to help — any small movement closer could make the other call for security. Even now, he could see the distrust in Ten's eyes.

What had the Master done to him?


End file.
